


Tension

by graywhatsit



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Hat Films, Love Confessions, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 07:05:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4091623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graywhatsit/pseuds/graywhatsit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ross might be feeling things he never thought he would. He doesn't really mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tension

**Author's Note:**

> i don't often write shipping  
> but when i do  
> it's kinda angsty

  One could never call Ross the most observant man in the universe, nor the most self-aware. He wasn’t unintelligent, not by any means– he’d graduated from uni with _firsts_ , for fuck’s sake– but he didn’t understand things until it was already too late for him, most of the time.

    This was one of those cases.

    He’d met Smith maybe about halfway through uni, if he remembered correctly– which was never a guarantee, he preferred to live in the present, if only because it was a little easier on everyone that way. A friend of a friend. Those sorts of relationships are also never a guarantee, but this one seemed to work out for everyone involved. Sure, he was a little coarse at times, but so was Trott, and so was he, if he really wanted to be honest; besides, if Trott liked him, it was a good bet he’d like Smith, too.

    Maybe that was why he didn’t really notice when things changed, at first. It could’ve been any number of reasons, honestly, from uni to the YouTube thing, but maybe it was just because they got on so well. Of course he’d be happy when Smith decided to hang out, of course he didn’t mind when the largest of the three decided to flop down on top of his friends instead of take a different chair, of course he loved to see Smith show off his clear talents.

    Friends always were like that.

    A year or two in, however, he finally started to gather the pieces. Did a friend want to do everything in his power to avoid going back home when the Apocaweekend was over? Did he make an effort to stand in the middle, even though it ruined the symmetry, which would normally make him so uncomfortable? Was a friend touchy-feely to the point of randomly touching his other friends’ face and taking whatever excuse he could to do so? Would he focus the camera on him at all times, even when he wasn’t speaking?

    The answer to those questions was… possibly not, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t rule out the possibility that a friend did do all those things. Who knew?

    The real kicker was the butterflies in his belly that started showing up. He’d thought he got the gastroenteritis Smith had come down with, from how his stomach was twisting and turning in his middle, but it wasn’t constant. It only came when Smith looked at him, smiled, walked– fuck, did just about anything within a good 20 feet or so of him.

Friends didn’t get that.

It took him another few months to notice what Smith, himself, was doing.

Watching him. Sitting close. Never once giving him the same shit he gave to Trott. Somehow making a point to wear burgundy more and more often after Ross had mentioned– successfully managing to sound joking and keeping his fluttering stomach and pink face at bay– that it wasn’t a bad color on him.

Getting an apartment right where both he and Trott had (which was entirely random happenstance and not actually any ploy from any of the three, but by god his crush-addled brain was going to take it and sprint to America with it).

Maybe he wasn’t usually very observant, but his smitten, head-over-heels self– as he’d realized he was late one night after some internet browsing and right in the middle of a pre-sleep bathroom break– sure as fuck noticed things. This, for lack of a better term at the moment, was a _thing_. A big, huge, important, probably the most urgent thing in his life at this very second _thing_.

Smith had to be feeling it, too.

* * *

That wasn’t to say this was going to be easy for him.

It was a huge step forward to even try and flirt, considering their lives in the relatively small spotlight of YouTube quasi-stardom. People were watching them, their interactions with each other. There were shippers, and as a whole they treated it as a harmless joke, but the fact remained: it would be very, very easy for something to go wrong.

Besides, it was baring a part of himself, a very vulnerable part. It was something that no one– not even himself, to be quite honest– had really thought of him as. In fact, he didn’t even think of himself as gay, not really– it was just Smith who gave him this feeling. Did that make him bi? Or something that was completely out of left field, ‘it’s okay if it’s you’ type of situation?

The point wasn’t to question his sexuality, though. The point was he was about to tell one of his best friends something that he’d kept hidden for a very long time. Even if he returned the feelings– which he honestly thought Smith did, given all of the ‘clues’ he’d picked up on, and some fans had, too– it was still frightening.

No time like the present, though, right?

It was a weekend, perhaps an hour or so before their usual as of late D&D session. He rarely came over this early, considering he lived in the next building over, but this needed time and care, and– most importantly– no one else around.

When Smith actually opened the door, rather than greet him as he normally would and just let him in, he paused for a second, frowning. “Are you okay? You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

He just might. “Huh? No, I’m fine, mate. I just need to talk to you quick, yeah?”

“Okay? Yeah, come on.” The frown and slight wrinkle on Smith’s brow didn’t leave his face, even as he shut the door behind his friend and moved to join him on the couch. “Look, if this is about D&D, I promise not to let Randy crawl all over the board this time. He got a little frisky with the pieces, but–”

“It’s not about Randy!” Ross didn’t mean to yell, and he sighed, muttering an apology. “This isn’t about Randy, or D&D, or anything. This is about something else, something really important to me, okay? I need you to listen and please, be serious.”

Also, he was not about to touch those pieces until he was sure they had been cleaned.

“If it’s as important as you say, I’ll be dead serious. Swear it. What’s going on?”

There was no lingering trace of humor in Smith’s face, no mischief, nothing but honest concern and complete attention. Ross took a deep breath and licked his lips, heart hammering in his chest. Smith watching him so closely with those eyes really made those butterflies go wild.

“Well, I–” He cut off, clearing his suddenly-dry throat. “It’s been bothering me a really long time. Years. I just didn’t really know for sure until recently, and I was afraid to say anything, because– that doesn’t matter. The point is, it– well, I mean, not entirely, but it has to do with the three of us– not all three, more you and me, but kind of Trott, I guess. No, what am I talking about, he doesn’t have anything to do with it, but, since he introduced us, I guess–”

“Ross.” Smith leaned forward, putting his hands on his babbling friends’ shoulders, making sure he was facing him. “Calm down. Breathe. What’s wrong?”

The places the bearded man was touching were tingling, burning and icy all at once. It was hard to follow his instructions to breathe, considering he was too busy just staring at Smith’s face to have any control over his lungs or his rapidly beating heart. After what seemed like a good fifteen minutes– it was really about five seconds– he managed to take a shaky breath, then another. In and out.

“I love you.”

A second of complete silence, before– “Huh?” Smith sat back a little, frowning again, though this time in pure confusion. “Sorry?”

“I love you. I’ve loved you for a very long time, years, probably. It’s hard to remember when I first thought– whatever. A-and not like, ‘oh, love you, mate’, but actual, romantic, kind of.. love you. I know I haven’t shown it at all, but I was scared for a while. I still am, to be honest, but I’ve noticed you’ve… and people have seen and said that… I just want to give this a shot, if you do.”

Smith didn’t answer for quite some time, slowly moving his lands back down to his lap, watching Ross with an odd expression. Not quite ecstatic– as Ross had secretly hoped– but it didn’t really seem disgusted, either. Maybe there was hope? Smith didn’t often show his emotions like that, contrary to popular belief; maybe he was simply–

“Oh. Well, then. Uh..”

It was Ross’ turn to frown, his heart slowly sinking in his chest. “What?”

“I’m, um.. look, mate.” He spoke slowly, still watching Ross. “I’m flattered. I am, and you’re great, you are one of my best friends, that’s no lie. Don’t you ever think I don’t love you, because I do.” He sighed. “Just not like that.”

It took Ross a moment to respond, blinking slowly. “You.. but you always.. I always thought.. oh, good fucking job, Ross. I’m sorry, Smith, I–”

“Don’t. I get it, I know what it’s like to get caught up in that shit.” For a moment, he looked wistful, even sad, and Ross almost wanted to press him for those stories. “Your head gets mixed up and you think you see things where you don’t and in the end you just get frustrated and upset. I know. I’m not mad at you, this isn’t weird.”

    Ross raised an eyebrow.

    “Well,” Smith amended, grinning a tad sheepishly, “maybe a little. I wasn’t expecting that, anyway.” Quickly, he grew serious. “You are my best friend, one of them, and nothing is going to be weird between us. It’ll only be weird if you let it. Can we still be friends?”

    He wouldn’t lie, his chest hurt a little; after all, he was just rejected. Still, taking this that badly would only end up hurting people, and a lot of people at that. He loved Smith too much and loved his livelihood too much to ruin it over something like this.

    He was mature. They both were.

    “Yeah, ‘course we can. We have been for years, right?”

    Smith’s grin made his heart swell, even getting those butterflies going again, but he could handle this. “And for a long time in the future. Want to help me set up? You can have first pick of the drinks.”

    How could he pass up that offer? He’d be mad not to. In the middle of setting up seats and dice and sheets of paper, however, his curiosity got the best of him. “You said you know what it’s like… care to share? I won’t tell, I swear.”

    His friend paused for a moment, drumming his fingers on the table as he contemplated just what to give away and what to keep private. Finally, Smith simply shook his head. “Another time, mate. Come on, they’ll be here any second.”

    Of course he wanted to know more, but he wouldn’t press.

    Friends don’t do that.


End file.
